December 2, 2019
by VR Trakowski
Summary: Ariadne goes home for Christmas. Arthur goes along.


**Happy December! I'm attempting the 31 Days of Ficmas prompts, which are apparently open to any fandom.**

**I do reserve the right to quit at any time. :P**

**This one takes place some time after _Meander_. Today's prompt is "tinsel".**

**(Apologies for tardiness. My Internet was out last night.)**

* * *

Arthur Chase was known for many things in the world of illicit Dreaming. Cool poise; quick thinking; deadly aim; and a distinct lack of the tendency to panic, no matter the situation.

(Also the complete inability to design anything like an exterior, but that was beside the point.)

So to find himself..._nervous_...well, it was a bit galling.

Granted, it was a new experience, even for someone who Dreamed through bizarre scenarios on a regular basis.

As if she sensed his uncertainty - and she probably could, dammit - Ariadne patted his arm, her other hand towing her suitcase. "Relax, Arthur. They won't eat you."

Arthur held in his snort. The airport was bustling with people, enough that he kept his own bag close to his side; but Christmas Eve was always busy, no matter where one went. "What if I want to eat _them?_"

Ariadne rolled her eyes. "They won't notice."

That fit with the tidbits she'd dropped over the years - Ariadne loved her family, and they seemed to love her, but the fact that she'd chosen to go to Paris for a degree in architecture instead of staying home and marrying baffled them yet.

Ariadne tugged him across the flow of traffic towards the car rental area. "Are you sure we need a car?" Arthur asked. "We're only staying a couple of days."

"Of course I am. Don't you want an escape hatch just in case?" She slid them past a skycap towing two baggage carts.

Arthur grinned. "When you put it like that…"

The drive was a little over an hour, and Arthur was content to let Ariadne handle the wheel; he was an expert at driving in snow, but she knew the area. It was dark when they reached the lakeside town, and snowing lightly; many houses were decorated with lights, looking almost picture-perfect. Arthur felt out of place in the setting, but he kept his doubts to himself.

The hotel, probably the finest the hotel boasted, was far below his usual standards, but they barely had time to drop off their bags. "I know it's not your style," Ariadne said in an undertone as they checked in. "But it's better than the guest room at my parents' place, trust me."

"No argument," he murmured back. He had never been invited home for Christmas by anyone besides Dom, so he really didn't know what to expect.

The big farmhouse was full to bursting with people when they arrived, and many of them descended on Ariadne with cries of gladness, mingling English with a version of French Arthur's classically trained ear could barely understand. He was introduced to multiple people, had his hand shaken and his shoulder slapped, and was given a large glass of something alcoholic enough to sting his nose when he lifted it.

Recognizing the test, Arthur downed it in a gulp, and smiled a little at the sounds of approval.

There was an enormous meal, done buffet-style since there were too many people for one table, and Ariadne kept introducing cousins and nieces and nephews. Arthur nodded, said hello, and enjoyed the food.

In between conversations with Ariadne's family, who had all been told he was a security consultant, Arthur watched her. It was easy to see Ariadne's pleasure at being home, but it was also easy to see how little her family thought of her choices - and how much they still considered her a child. He lost count of the times she deflected the question _when are you coming home,_ or _when will you settle down._

Ariadne's father seemed to accept him easily enough, but her mother kept eyeing Arthur skeptically. He didn't blame her for it, but it was annoying just the same. It was rather a relief when the household emptied out for midnight Mass.

Ariadne sent him back to the hotel instead. "Don't wait up," she said, kissing him lightly. "There's hot drinks afterwards, but I won't make you sit through all that, I can get a lift with someone. We're due back here for late breakfast in the morning."

"All right." Arthur made sure she had her gloves; she tended to lose them. "Have fun."

But the hotel room was too empty without her, bland and chilly, and he couldn't settle. The hotel bar was closed, and Arthur wasn't going to lower himself to drinking cheap liquor out of the minibar, so he put his coat back on and went for a walk.

It had stopped snowing, and most of the sidewalks were clear, which surprised Arthur. He wandered along looking at the lit windows, the decorated streetlights; when he found an entire street lined with light-wrapped trees, he couldn't resist it.

The scene had the slightly unreal feel of a Dream, Arthur thought; the light sparkling from the bare branches, the colored bulbs in the windows, the crisp smell of snow felt as if he'd entered a scene set in some film-like vision of what Christmas should be. He checked his totem just to be sure - he hadn't survived this long by being careless - but it told him he was in the real world.

There was no one else in sight, but music teased at the edge of Arthur's hearing, some spillover from one of the houses perhaps; his breath smoked, his ears went numb from cold, and yet he wandered on, still restless.

It somehow wasn't a surprise when steps sounded behind him and an arm slid through the crook of his elbow. Arthur looked down at Ariadne's bright hat and red cheeks. "How did you find me?"

"Pure luck," she said cheerfully. "I saw you out the side window while Pete was driving me back to the hotel."

"How was the service?" Arthur asked, and she shrugged.

"Beautiful, crowded - the usual. I liked it better last year when Professor M took me to one of those tiny chapels he likes."

She didn't ask why on earth Arthur was wandering the frozen streets of an unfamiliar town past midnight, and it was one of the things he loved about her. They understood each other on a level that was deeper than Dream, a synchronicity Arthur had shared with no one else besides Dom, and to him it was the most precious thing about their relationship.

They kept walking, down to the end of the street; it was capped with a circle, and in the center was a small park planted with evergreens. Each one was draped with thick swags of silver tinsel, a glittering feast of beauty.

Without a word spoken, they stopped to admire the scene. And in that still moment, Ariadne's warmth against his side and his toes numb in his shoes, Arthur knew he was content.

He turned his head, bent his neck enough to press his lips to her temple, and felt a laugh vibrate silently through her.

It was perfect.


End file.
